


ShinDrift Week 2019

by ActualHurry



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, ShinDrift Week, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualHurry/pseuds/ActualHurry
Summary: A collection of works inspired by S/D Week 2019.Day 1: Guard/protectDay 2: Collar/leashDay 3: Warm/coldDay 4: TemptDay 5: DanceDay 6: AUDay 7: CREATOR'S CHOICE (trope/situation/prompt of your choosing)





	1. Day 1: Guard/protect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy S/D Week! IDK If I can get everything out on the right days, but I plan on finishing out each prompt! 
> 
> Just for fun, this is a rewrite of my fic, Distractions: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410656 (with new canon stuff in mind). Timelinewise, this fic is pre-Renegade reveal.
> 
> Warning: There is stabbing in this fic. But it's friendly stabbing.

_“See, we thought wrong. Both of us did. We, the two of us, me and that Drifter, figured if we threw ourselves headfirst into making Gambit work, everything would fall into place thanks to persistence. Things weren’t that simple. And we weren’t much of a fireteam._

_“We’d gone into the Ascendant Plane expecting one thing and got a whole other. He wouldn’t tell me what the deal was. Not even when I pointed my cannon at him and told him he’d better ‘fess up, but… I should’ve expected mystery. The Drifter talks a lot, shows the proof to make you believe, but when it comes down to answering the questions he plants in your head? Doesn’t matter what you do. He won’t stop your wheels from turnin’. He’ll just grease ‘em up and let ‘em go ‘round and ‘round again._

_“It’s enough to drive a man to some sorta edge, I’ll tell you that._

_“But we went in. Him, ‘cuz he said he needed to check up on somethin’ or another. Me, ‘cuz I hate surprises. I didn’t want him draggin’ out another nightmare only to shrug it off later and tell me I shoulda known better. So I followed after him, claiming trust. And he let me._

_“Only, we ran into something more than either of us bargained for…got separated from our Ghosts. Stranded in the Ascendant Realm._

_Things snowballed from there as they got the tendency to.”_

– A Renegade’s Observations of a Drifter

 

The Ascendant Realm was a maze within an abyss within a void within a maelstrom – and then somehow, it managed to cycle right back around to nothing other than a labyrinth. It smelled like a dust storm without the dust or a dying star without the matter, and it sounded like brown noise with an echo to it – and that echo meant there was something out there other than emptiness.

“What’re we looking for?” Shin asked, walking down a narrow platform. Nothing held it up; it simply _was_ , craggy and thin and made for single-file lines, apparently.

“I got my own real estate in here,” Drifter said, gesturing widely to either side of them. It was a miracle he didn’t tip right off the side. “Has a nasty habit of gettin’ lost. Y’know. Stuff slips through the cracks in a place like this.”

Shin followed after him. A piece of the platform broke beneath his boot, tumbling down an unknowably long way. “Is that what we’re looking for? Your real estate?”

“You better believe it, hot stuff.”

Shin didn’t know whether that was a shot at his affinity for Solar or a comment to get under his skin. “And then what? What do you have in mind once we find it?”

Drifter stopped short. Shin nearly walked right into him.

“Once we find it…” Drifter trailed off, looking around. “The fog gotten any thicker to you?”

It _was_ thicker. Shin hadn’t noticed since all he’d been focused on was Drifter’s back, but if he peeked around him, he quickly lost sight of the platform beneath their feet. One, maybe two steps forward, and it faded right into oblivion. They could’ve walked right off the edge.

“Yeah,” Shin said. He reached out, hooking a finger into Drifter’s belt. “Don’t take another step.”

“I’m not,” Drifter snapped. He looked over his shoulder at Shin. The shadows made his lightless eyes look even less chipper than usual. “Can you back up?”

“If I’m honest…” Shin glanced behind himself, at the impossibly thin pathway, at the dark below them. “Would rather not. Can you try turning around first?”

“I’ve barely got the space to put one foot in front of the other,” Drifter said dryly. “Might as well ask me if I can fly.”

Shin stayed silent for a long moment, then asked, “Can you?”

“Renegade.”

“Huh?”

“You’re an asshole.”

It got a huff of laughter out of Shin, at least until he recognized that they really were stuck if he didn’t start putting one foot behind the other. He kept his hold on Drifter’s belt as he stepped back once, toe then heel. Shin wasn’t an acrobat by any means, but he could balance well enough not to fall off of this thing. Hopefully.

“How far in the Ascendant Realm are we?” he asked as he took another step. This was gonna be slow going.

Drifter hummed, shuffling backwards after Shin. “Who knows, everything looks the same. Hang on. Lemme…”

He reached up, palm out, as if to transmat something into his hand, but nothing came. Shin watched him repeat the gesture, then a third time, more frantically than the last. Drifter tossed another glance back at him.

“Where’s your Ghost?” Drifter asked suddenly.

Shin stared at him, uncomprehending, then held out his hand. He frowned when nothing happened, Jaren’s Ghost decidedly not here, no voice in his helmet explaining why. Dread settled in quick after that. He raised his arm, willing Light to spark and a spark to flame.

Nothing.

“We’re in too deep, Drifter,” Shin said, his voice hard. “I thought you knew where you were going.”

“I did!” Drifter insisted, “I _do_. Somethin’s changed, this isn’t right –”

A low groan shook the platform beneath them. Shin swayed with it, gripping Drifter’s belt like an anchor. Trusting Drifter not to tumble off the side was one hell of a gamble, but good luck getting Shin to let him go. The open space on either side of them felt smothering despite the openness. One wrong move, and they would fall and fall and fall. Whatever background noise had been there before was only rushing wind now.

“Renegade!” Drifter said, sharp, the word nearly swallowed up by the rolling thunder in the distance.

Drifter started to turn with his hand outstretched. Shin watched him pull free from his hold and twist around, as if Drifter was really about to reach for him.

And then something slammed into Shin’s side hard enough to throw him into thin air.

Everything went black.

 

Shin woke up to movement – something dragging him by the leg across rough ground. There was blinding pain shooting through his entire body, a splitting ache in his head, and something wet in his eyes, but who was keeping track, really?

“What…” he breathed, lapsing into a coughing spree. White sparks went off behind his eyelids with every wracking heave.

Whatever was dragging him stopped and he felt his foot drop to the ground freely, released. Shin blinked, raising a sore arm to rub at his eyes. His helmet was gone…somewhat gone, anyway. The visor had snapped clean off. That’d explain why that model was discontinued, he figured – that, or he just got hit _that_ hard.

“You’re awake,” said Drifter’s voice.

If Shin wasn’t deliriously pained, he’d think he sounded relieved. He just kept wiping his eyes, squinting at the bleary smear of red on his fingers.

“Where’s the blood coming from?” Shin managed, dropping his head lightly back against the rocky ground. He grimaced at the nausea rioting in his stomach every time he so much as moved.

“Head,” Drifter said. Shin heard footsteps, then blinked again, and Drifter was standing over him. “ _Your_ head. Good news is you’re mostly intact. Took a fall, for sure, but…”

The more he talked, the more Shin’s head pounded. Shin fumbled at his helmet clasps, wrenching it off and throwing it elsewhere. He heard it clatter like it broke even worse than it already was. Good riddance. “And you?” he asked.

“Who, me?” Drifter scoffed, but now that Shin was a little more cognizant, he could hear that edge of strain. “Never been better. Just… _hunky-dory_ over here.”

Shin turned his head slowly, squinting at him. Drifter stepped back, but Shin pushed himself up on an elbow.

“You…” Shin stopped. “Is that part of a Knight’s sword in your side?”

“No, I’m just happy to see you,” Drifter sneered.

Shin wondered how quickly he could knock himself unconscious again. “Seriously?”

“Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.”

“I’ve got blood in my eyes, asshole,” Shin snapped. The world swirled around him, but he got to his knees and glared at Drifter. “The hell happened?”

Drifter pointed upwards, winced, then covered the chunk of sword in his side with his hand. “Once things went awry, rocks started flyin’ around. Not gonna pretend like I know why, but it’s not somethin’ unique to this corner of the Ascendant Realm.” Drifter took a labored breath, cringing as he shuddered. “Ah, shit…so you took a pebble to the face and fell down here. Lucky you didn’t just keep fallin’.”

Shin touched his brow, fingers coming away wet. “Pebble?” he asked, dry.

“A big pebble.”

Fine. Shin got himself all the way up onto his feet, swaying lightly. He willed away the urge to puke. “Okay. Big pebble got me. What about _you_?”

Drifter seemed pinned then, as if the Knight sword in his side was keeping him stuck in place and not simply making him look paler by the moment. “What about me?”

“Wh – you’ve got a sword in your ribcage, what the hell’s that mean?”

“It’s not the whole sword,” Drifter argued, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s barely the tip of it. Broke off, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Shin said slowly. “Let’s try this again. Why d’you have the tip of a Knight’s sword in your side?”

Drifter shifted his weight again, wincing when he leaned too far to his defunct side. Now that the world had stopped closing in on Shin’s eyes, he realized Drifter’d lost his robe, leaving him with the top underneath it – and a hell of a tear in the side, showing off the wound that oozed around the uneven bit of Hive sword.

“…Ran into some Hive on the way down to you,” Drifter said finally. “Fought. Won. Got this as a neat souvenir.”

The way he was talking around it – and the fact that he’d been dragging Shin away from somewhere instead of keeping them in one place – made Shin think that ‘on the way down’ meant something different. Sounded more like he’d been making a final stand over Shin’s unconscious body.

He kept that insight to himself and said, “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“What’re _we_ gonna do about _anything_?” Drifter shot back. “We can’t get back up to the portal in this shape. Don’t got any Ghosts, traitorous bastards that they are.” Shin looked at him funny, but Drifter kept going. “This might be it for us, pal. How’s that for a kick in the teeth.”

Shin stayed silent, looking up and around. The odd fog in the Ascendant Realm kept him from seeing much more than ambiguous shapes and vague hints of platforms in the distance, but Drifter was right. They couldn’t make it up a hill right now, let alone hike through an impossibly hostile plane.

“Well, if we’re gonna die for good here,” Shin said, “I just want you to know somethin’.”

Drifter glanced up at him, slowly helping himself down into a splayed-out sit. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Shin smiled. It hurt. “I think you’re a real fuckin’ asshole.”

The barking laugh in response must not’ve felt anywhere near good with that piece of sword in him, but Drifter only wheezed about it. “Fuck. Y’got me there. Ah, guess that just makes us two of a kind, brother. I like the honesty. Keep it up.”

Something stung at Shin at that, but he didn’t have the capacity to analyze it. He’d mull that over later, but for now…Shin sat down, then let himself lay all the way back against the cool stone. Everything here was bone-chillingly cold and well on its way to soaking right through his gear, but the cold was nearly a relief from all of the aches and pains in his body. Nearly. If he died like this, he’d never forgive himself. Jaren would’ve been disappointed. Yor…

Well. There was something poetic to it, after all.

Drifter didn’t go quiet though, not that he ever needed a reason to hear his own voice. “Reckon the Hive got any nasty diseases I need to be worried about?”

Shin stared upwards. “Plenty.”

“Like cat scratch fever, but worse.”

He didn’t honor that with a response.

“Hey,” Drifter continued, “Would y’shoot me if I started frothin’ at the mouth and tried to claw at ya like a rabid Thrall?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Aww, thanks,” Drifter said, mocking.

Something trembled in his voice, just enough to make Shin turn his head to look. Drifter was peeking down at his side, brows furrowed tight together and hands shaking, violently enough that Shin could see it even in the shifting dark. When Drifter noticed Shin’s scrutiny, he tensed up all over again.

“Could yank it outta you,” Shin suggested, unsettled. “Sure would put a fire under your Ghost to find us.”

“You sure about that?”

“It must like you enough to put up with you this long.”

“Got a better idea,” Drifter said, shifting gears. He grinned, his teeth bright in the shadows. “You could take my mind off the pain, y’know. Gimme somethin’ else to think about.”

Shin considered, then pushed himself up onto an elbow. He pretended not to notice Drifter sitting up a little straighter. He closed the little space between them, getting a hand on Drifter’s shoulder to steady himself as he climbed into his lap. Shin felt like he was going insane. This wasn’t the first time they’d…touched, this wasn’t even close, but of all things, right now, Shin was playing at this old, old want, and he might as well be freefalling again.

“Oh,” Drifter breathed, surprise in his voice, in the way his eyes widened.

Shin lowered his mouth to Drifter’s and kissed him, easing his tongue between his parted lips and feeling out his mouth – dry, tacky, not exactly the nicest kiss in the world, but they weren’t the nicest men, either.

Shin lightly felt out the edge of Drifter’s wound as he bit his lower lip. Drifter hissed at the teeth, twitching, then doubly so when he felt Shin’s fingers.

“‘Scuse you,” Drifter huffed, suspicious now. Rightly so, too. “What’re you doin’?”

“Takin’ your mind off it,” Shin muttered against his mouth.

Shin reached down fast to grab the knife on his hip, then stuck it between Drifter’s flesh and the hard, craggy side of the Knight’s sword. To Drifter’s credit not a sound escaped him, but he did go rigid as a bowstring. It wasn’t even a particularly long knife; Shin had taken out the shortest one he had, meant more for the field than combat. He kept it there for a moment, hand still on the hilt as he leaned back, watching Drifter impassively.

“Just when I think you can’t get any meaner,” Drifter gritted out. He jerked as Shin shimmied the knife in deeper. “ _Fuck_. I used to think I was the cruelest sonuva bitch on this side of Jupiter, but there you go, provin’ me wrong.”

Shin almost smiled about it – _if only you knew_ – but then Drifter grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving the knife anymore. Shin watched him closely, then leaned in and pressed his lips to him again, at first hard and firm, then letting his mouth soften out into kinder, forgiving kisses. Drifter’s grip eased up slowly, and the second Shin saw an opening he took it, digging the blade against the Knight’s sword.

Drifter did gasp that time, almost shoving Shin off of his lap, but Shin stayed. “Let me,” he insisted, gritting his teeth. He didn’t let go of the knife.

“This ain’t how surgery works,” Drifter snapped at him, hoarse.

Shin kissed him silent, angling the blade until he felt it catch against the Hive piece, muffling every one of Drifter’s pained breaths with his lips, licking into his mouth whenever Drifter gripped at his back too tightly. The worst part was that Drifter kissed back, and he kissed back _well_. Shin wondered if he really was taking his mind off of it. Shin wondered, deliriously tempted, if he’d be allowed to kiss him like this again later, when there weren’t any strings attached.

He pulled the sword tip out of Drifter’s side in an easy slip, knife following. Drifter choked down a strangled noise, then clutched at his torn-open flesh, swearing up a stream of curses.

“We’re done,” Shin said against his lips, then smiled there. “You’re a terrible patient.”

“You’re the fuckin’ _worst_ doctor,” Drifter managed. “Thought you weren’t supposed to remove the thing keepin’ somebody from bleeding out.”

“Yeah.” Shin set his knife to the side, then unclasped his cloak and looped it around Drifter’s back. He tied the cloak tightly in place over the gash. “But you won’t bleed out.”

Drifter gave him a look, weariness painted across his face. “Really.”

“Mhm.” Shin finished, then glanced at his blood-wet hands. No way of knowing what red smeared there was his and what was Drifter’s, all of it intermingled. Shaking his bleary head from the momentary diversion, he picked up the piece of the Knight’s sword, showing it to Drifter. “Wasn’t that deep in there.”

Drifter gave a little, “huh,” before taking the piece and pocketing it. Shin raised his eyebrows. “Souvenir,” Drifter reminded him.

 _Right_. Shin started to get off of his lap, but Drifter caught him by the hips, keeping him in place.

“Wait,” Drifter said hastily. He licked his lips. Shin felt distinctly bewitched by the flash of tongue. “Y’know, I’m still hurtin’, pal. Why don’t you, uh…keep me distracted? ‘Til our Ghosts get here.”

“...What kinda distracted?”

Drifter’s hands tightened around Shin’s waist. “You went ‘n stabbed me pretty bad, Renegade,” he said, hushed. “Think I deserve you kissin’ me better after that.”

Shin kissed him as if he’d never have the chance to kiss him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry they didn't bang. :/ (This is an apology to myself.)


	2. Day 2: Collar/leash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest: I have no idea how I feel about this one. But it's done, so :) PWP ahead.

It was a special evening.

Nothing important happened when Shin woke up that morning – after staying awake for, what, forty-something hours... he’d been busy, okay? – and nothing important happened during the day. It was, by all accounts, incredibly _normal_. He’d climbed out of Drifter’s bed, he’d made some of Drifter’s coffee, he’d picked up the armor he’d left strewn about while crawling into the blankets the night before. He’d ordered takeout from the City for them too, eaten it together with Drifter in the Annex, but still, that wasn’t hardly anything _novel_. 

No. The special part came when Shin approached that night. He came bearing an idea and an unspoken sacrifice to sweeten the deal.

“Let me tie your wrists,” Shin said to him. That, in fact, was the idea.

Drifter laughed, then trailed off when it became obvious that Shin was earnest. “You…what?” 

Straddling Drifter’s lap after a long, hard day, Shin wanted nothing more than to get back into the swing of their _heated things_ , but he pressed on: “I wanna tie you up,” he said, shifting his hips ever so slightly until Drifter gave a small, distracted growl.

Drifter stilled him. “Why?”

It was key that he didn’t take his hands off of Shin’s back though. If he’d pulled away, if he’d moved back, Shin would try his luck another more favorable, less paranoid time. But this, with Drifter’s hands still heavy on his bare skin, was promising.

(Anything that wasn’t an outright _no_ was promising. Shin turned up the allure.) 

“I wanna try something new,” Shin said, aiming to tempt as he nosed along Drifter’s jaw, his lashes brushing against the side of Drifter’s face in a hint of a kiss. “And I wanna try it with you. Think it could be fun.” He stopped his lips at Drifter’s ear. “There’s a twist, too, but…” 

Drifter’s fingers had settled into the familiar divots of Shin’s spine. “O _kaaay_ ,” Drifter said carefully. “…What kinda twist are we talkin’?” 

Now, Shin usually ran pretty hot. Solar was a comfort zone, a coat of righteous anger that he hardly ever threw off. But warm wasn’t what tonight called for. 

Shin leaned back to look at him. If Drifter felt the temperature shift lower beneath Shin’s skin then he didn’t say anything – though that little twitch of his mouth, the tiny narrowing of his eyes at the corners, said plenty for him.

“What are you –” Drifter cut himself off and watched in skeptical silence as Shin reached out and snatched a scattered line of purple Light from thin air, then snapped his mouth shut entirely when Shin wove it into something resembling threads.

It was cold to the touch, even more chilly when Shin put one end of it up to his own throat, then coiled it around his neck. The Void Light flickered, but didn’t snap away into nothing, no; it changed its shape, thickening against the magnetism of skin. His Light found his frequency out and molded to him without even trying. He had a dreadful feeling that his Light would take to Drifter just the same. 

“Hey,” Drifter cut in, staring with open fascination and a mite of fear at the space below Shin’s jaw, where the Light threaded itself together, thickening like a necklace – or a _collar_ – around Shin’s neck. “I thought you wanted to tie _me_ up.” 

“That disappointment I hear?” Shin asked him, teasing. “I told you there was a twist.” He bit back a shiver at the cold creeping across his skin, the tether sapping the heat he clung to, but he focused on how warm Drifter’s body was against his, how deeply the want for him burned in his gut, and the chill left him more suddenly than it’d come.

“One helluva twist,” Drifter muttered, but as Shin took his wrist, he offered up his other hand too – slowly, but he did it. His eyes stayed narrow with scrutiny. Shin smiled, indulgent. “One condition. You tell me how you figured this out.” 

Shin laughed lightly, the Void tightening around his throat at the vibrations. He wrapped the tether around Drifter’s wrists in a pretty, coiling pattern, then raised Drifter’s arms higher, bracing them behind his head and against the wall. Drifter’s gaze watched Shin carefully, as if watching for any sign that he was about to light a fire. 

Not that Shin could. His own Light kept him in check. 

One thin, purple strand still connected the strange collar to Drifter’s wrists. It sparkled like a real piece of jewelry, yet it was barely tangible, not at all suitable for casual wear.

“It’s not that hard,” Shin told him, as if it hadn’t taken him weeks of trying to spin threads of Void to get to a point where something this precise was possible. He licked his lips as Drifter shifted under him, the tiny amount of friction in the movement reminding him that there was business to attend to. 

“Says the guy known for his Golden Gun,” Drifter said wryly. He tipped his chin up thoughtfully, eyeing Shin.

And then Drifter jerked his wrists and Shin felt the tug not just on his neck, but in his chest, in his _core_. He gasped with it. Drifter only hummed once.

“This really is your Light,” Drifter mused. He looked Shin over again, this time more thoroughly,  like he was tempted to take him apart. Fear and loathing, interest and curiosity all seemed to war in those eyes of his.  

Well. Far be it from Shin to stop Drifter from extorting just how much he was wrapped around Drifter’s fingers, in the most literal sense. Shin set about taking Drifter’s pants off, raising himself off of his lap to make it easier.

“I’d appreciate it if we put it to good use,” Shin said wryly, yanking Drifter’s pants down his thighs. The thread connecting the collar to the cuffs was taut enough that Shin had to wait for Drifter to lower his arms so that he could pull his pants all the way off of him. He tugged the rest of his own clothes off, kicking his boots somewhere across the floor, immediately forgotten for the time.

Drifter raised his arms again, so quickly that Shin nearly tumbled atop him from the sudden tug. When Shin balanced himself enough to meet his gaze, Drifter’s smirk was part-smug, part-tenuous. Nervous, even now.

The Void around Shin’s throat quivered. 

“Gonna tell me to heel?” Shin asked, low, close enough to brush his lips against Drifter’s. 

Drifter scoffed a laugh into his mouth, then shuddered as Shin’s hands skated down his sides. “Yeah, right. You _wouldn’t_.”

Shin pulled back to look at him, an answer too sincere to speak aloud resting in that silence. Drifter’s surprised expression melted into something distracted when Shin took the base of Drifter’s cock into his hand.

Just because Drifter couldn’t touch didn’t mean Shin couldn’t. He worked him over to get him to full hardness, his other hand holding Drifter down by the chest, pinning him beneath his weight. Drifter tried raising his hips into each rhythmic stroke, all in vain; Shin’s legs kept his thighs down and despite the little growl in the back of Drifter’s throat – the growl that made Shin _shiver_ – Shin refused to let him move. 

No. Today was for spoiling. 

As precum beaded at the tip of Drifter’s cock, Shin spread the wetness with his thumb, twisting his wrist on the downstroke just to hear Drifter’s breath skip. Shin leaned down to kiss him, slowly enough to hint at more but deeply enough to give away the game. He moved his hand, slid his fingers over Drifter’s collarbone and traced his touch further down, thumbing at his nipple as he kissed him.

Drifter hissed air between his teeth as Shin let him take a breath. “ _Mean_ ,” Drifter gritted out, writhing underneath Shin; Shin hummed, then cupped Drifter’s pec and kneaded the heel of his palm against the muscle, before finally pinching his nipple between his fingers. Drifter lurched upwards – not that he went anywhere – then managed, “You damn tease,” as he dropped back.

Shin smiled to himself and lowered his head, running his tongue along Drifter’s neck and down even more, until he could give Drifter a lazy bite at the thickest part of his chest, beside his nipple. Drifter strained, the movement tugging Shin’s neck upwards, but Shin made a determined noise as the tether tightened ‘round his throat and he fastened his mouth over Drifter’s nipple, flicking his tongue on and over it until Drifter gasped out an undignified noise. He nearly threw Shin off, twisting around the way he did.

“E- _nough_ ,” Drifter snapped, then groaned with his head thrown back while Shin stroked his length. He stretched out, arms behind his head, body bared beneath Shin. “You’re in one helluva mood today –” 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Shin interrupted, nuzzling Drifter’s throat, rocking his own hips against his thigh with some measure of hardly-stifled want.

“…What kinda question’s that?” Drifter asked skeptically, his voice a little airy from Shin’s touch.

“I mean,” said Shin, leaning up despite the constant pull around his neck, “usually we’re pretty quick. Get right into things. This okay with you?” He grabbed the lube from its spot, accidentally tucked away beneath the pillow under Drifter’s head.

Drifter watched him for a moment, then said, “Yeah.”

Shin bit his tongue to quell the fluttering burn in his chest. Instead of grinning, he slicked up his palm and ran his hand up and down Drifter’s length again, then changed gears and instead slid a finger along Drifter’s entrance.

“Oh,” Drifter breathed. 

Shin glanced up at his face, the flush along his cheeks, the sweaty sheen across his forehead. Drifter flustered, then added, “Don’t stop.”

It was an easy command to follow. Shin had no plans on stopping, not now, but knowing Drifter didn’t wanna pull the plug on it – Shin’s want was a fanned flame, sparking up hot again, and he slipped his finger down to the knuckle. A second followed soon after, Drifter’s occasional pulling on the restraints only reminding Shin of the chilly Void keeping him in check – or maybe what Shin thought was Drifter tensing up and tugging unconsciously was really Drifter reminding himself of that, too. 

Either way, it wasn’t a bad feeling, no, not at all – and Shin fucked him open like that, until Drifter’s legs were hiked up on Shin’s hips, one leg hooked over Shin’s elbow, vulnerable and curled in on himself where Shin arched over him. Drifter’s hands were fisted tight, his eyes shut even tighter, and Shin kept on and kept on until – 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Drifter rasped as Shin replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding in slowly, slowly.

Shin bottomed out, head hanging, hair in his face. He took a deep, careful breath, focused in on the teeth marks left on Drifter’s chest. The Void tether shivered where it was connecting them. Much longer and it’d be gone, Shin’s Light reserves depleted.

That, or he was more affected than he knew. 

Shin pulled his hips back and in again, Drifter’s noise of satisfaction echoing forever on in his ears. Drifter’s warmth chased away the chill from the Void and with every thrust back into him, Shin felt himself grow hotter and hotter as if it was Solar returning to him, unable to be kept at bay any longer. He stole a kiss from Drifter – couldn’t help it, really – and Drifter licked between his teeth and kissed him like he was starving for it. 

Each time Shin panted, the tether trembled. Each time Drifter made a sound, the tether shook. Shin had Drifter halfway against the bed, halfway against the wall, and Drifter didn’t so much as complain, his arms bent at the elbows behind him as Shin fucked him. He could’ve sworn they’d started slower than this – but the creeping desire had gotten to be too much and the passion had whisked away the cold that the Void claimed on him. Shin could only _want_.

He wasn’t alone in it. Drifter held him between his legs as if he’d sooner hear Shin cry mercy than let him go. The tether tightened around Shin’s throat, playing keep-away with his breath, and Shin realized that Drifter was stretching his arms away from him, meeting his gaze with sharp eyes for somebody on the receiving end. 

“Heel,” Drifter ordered, almost a mockery, nearly a plea, and Shin pushed into him hard with an orgasm that shocked him all the way down his spine. Drifter quieted his moan by turning his face away, burying his mouth against his own shoulder, and even in a blissed-out haze Shin was able to get his hand on Drifter’s cock and work him ‘til he came, too.

The tethers broke – first, the ones keeping Drifter’s wrists up against the wall, and then Shin’s collar snapped into wisps of Void. Drifter, now free, barely caught Shin before he could slump onto him entirely, both of them left panting for a moment in the afterglow. Shin heaved for breath a little harder than Drifter, black swirling in his vision, body happily sated and mind lazy with content exhaustion.

Eventually, Shin pulled out and twisted, dropping himself onto the mattress on his side with Drifter’s meager help. They’d replaced the small cot a while ago; Shin had insisted after falling off of it one too many times.

But the bigger bed meant that Shin had no excuse not to push into Drifter’s space and hover close. As if, at this point, he needed an excuse.

“I’m surprised you let me try that,” Shin said tiredly against the curve of Drifter’s shoulder, turning his head to peer curiously up at him. 

Drifter only grunted. Each rise and fall of his chest made Shin’s heart thud a little more insistently in his chest, each thought a proud rhythm of _I did this, I did this, I did this._ He won Drifter’s trust. He played with Drifter’s trust. And they both came out of it satisfied instead of burned. 

That was new. Every other time, one of them ended up with a gun pointed at them. Usually it was Shin. 

Now it was just Drifter’s heavy, fulfilled breaths, his warm skin against Shin’s cheek, his eyes shut against the scarce light in the Derelict’s little room. It was about time things got this comfortable between them, and all it had taken to realize it was a little bit of Voidplay.

“That was,” Drifter started, then caught himself and glanced down, blinking in surprise when he found Shin staring up at him. “Uh. That was good.” 

“Better than usual?” 

Drifter seemed to think about it. “Different than usual.” 

“Yeah,” Shin said, then raised a hand to wiggle his fingers. “You couldn’t touch the merchandise.” 

Drifter snorted, shutting his eyes again. He really was worn out from it if he wasn’t firing back with anything, but Shin figured if anything was gonna take it out of him, it was putting all that trust in Shin not to fuck up. Paranoia was exhausting. 

Before Drifter’s breaths evened out into sleep, Shin leaned up fully to kiss sweat from his brow, then patted his chest lightly. 

“Happy anniversary,” Shin said, only a little wry to protect himself from just how sincerely he meant it.

It sure did shock Drifter’s eyes open, though. “Anniversary of what?” 

“Of our arrangement.”

Drifter stared at him, then sputtered, then sat up from the bed. Shin’s head dropped unceremoniously onto the pillow. With the extra room granted to him, Shin stretched out, still feeling all too pliant from their romp. 

“Why’s that worth rememberin’ as an _anniversary_?” Drifter demanded, glaring down at him.

“That was the start of our partnership, technically speaking.” Shin raised his hand and traced Drifter’s spine, feeling him shiver. He bit back a smile. “I mean, Shin Malphur and the Drifter’s partnership, anyway. We made it official then, don’t you think?” 

Shin couldn’t help his smile finally, as Drifter’s face went from suspicious to baffled to embarrassed in all of a second.

“Hey,” he said quickly, because Drifter busied himself by sulking at the ceiling and Shin didn’t have it in him to distract him with a round two. “It was…” 

“You puzzled out how to play with Void like that just for an anniversary present?” Drifter pressed.

“I didn’t have an exact day in mind for _that_ particular trick,” Shin admitted, caught. He wondered who he was fooling.

Drifter finally looked at him. Shin looked back at him.

“We could’ve just gone for food,” Drifter said finally.

“...Is that what you want?” 

Drifter stared him down, then flatly asked, “You’re tellin’ me you’re _not_ hungry after all the work you just put in?” 

Shin’s nape burned. “I could eat.”

“Alright.” Drifter swung his legs out of bed and snatched up his discarded clothes, then wiped himself clean with – oh, that was Shin’s shirt. “Let’s go. The least you can do after tyin’ me up like that is takin’ me to dinner, don’t’cha think?”

Shin followed him out of bed, warmth blooming bright hot in his chest again. “It’d only be polite.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Drifter sneered, throwing on a robe and searching for his boots.

Shin would have to pull out some Arc next time. See what other surprises Drifter would be willing to indulge him in. But until then… 

This was good, he thought, setting their transmat coordinates to the City. Drifter came over to stand with Shin, adjusting his belt. 

Yeah. This’d do just fine.

 


	3. Day 3: Warm/cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I didn't think I could get them all out in time...?
> 
> xD
> 
> CW: Drunk sex ahead...if you're uncomfy with that, do not read! Drinking away their respective audio/visual hallucinations and then banging it out is a totally healthy coping mechanism (it's not). That said, it IS consensual. <3 Alllways.

Shin strode into the Annex room like a cloaked stormcloud. Drifter jumped at his entrance, balking as he raised his arms up in defense from his spot at his worktable.

“Hey, _hey_ , the hell’re you doin’ here?” Drifter demanded.

Shin didn’t say anything at first, only slamming two bottles of whiskey down on the table. The empty coffee mug left there shivered from the impact. Drifter’s eyes went wide – went even wider, too, when Shin transmatted _another_ three bottles of alcohol from his inventory and onto the table along with the rest.

“What’s the occasion?” Drifter added, slow.

“It’s five o’clock,” Shin said with a wry hook to his mouth, already cracking open a bottle.

Someone – something – was always trying to steal away one or both of them. Sometimes it was whispers to blame, and sometimes hallucinations and strange waking dreams.

So Shin had decided: he was going to steal Drifter first. 

He plucked the coffee mug from the table and put it underneath for safekeeping, figuring Drifter wouldn’t think too kindly of him if he knocked the thing onto the floor. He was particular about his drinks, suspicious of cups he hadn’t poured himself or mugs that weren’t full-familiar to him. All the more reason for Shin to grab two more coffee mugs – clean enough, mostly – from the nearby crate. He poured both full of whiskey, paying no mind to Drifter’s narrowed eyes weighing on him.

“I’ve got things to do, y’know,” Drifter said as Shin slid one mug over to him.

Shin glanced up at him. Drifter scoffed and turned his head away before Shin could so much as meet his gaze. “I checked the Gambit schedule,” Shin said. “You’re free.”

Drifter stepped back a half-step and gave Shin a quick inspection, still not looking him in the eye. “You went diggin’ –” He snapped his mouth shut, jaw tight. “Like all I got is _Gambit_ these days. You don’t think I’ve got other _roads_ to keep _paved_? Fresh faces to con? New scams to run?”

“You always do.” Shin nodded down at the mug, waiting for Drifter to take it. “But a wanted man like you deserves a break every now and again, don’t you think?”

Shin took a sip first to prove the whiskey’s innocence, Drifter scrutinizing him all the while. When Shin didn’t keel over from poison, toxin, or a more innocuous disgust, Drifter picked up his drink.

“If this’s gonna be a party, you shoulda told me to hang up some decorations,” Drifter said against the rim of the mug before taking a long sip. His nose wrinkled funny. Shin felt all too charmed at it.

“Party?” Shin repeated. He leaned his hip against the table and cheerfully tipped his mug in Drifter’s direction.

Drifter looked at him like he’d grown another head. “No way in _hell_ , hotshot. You tryin’ to tell me all this is for us? The _two_ of us?”

“Didn’t think you were one to back down from a challenge.”

“You call it a challenge,” Drifter drawled into his cup, “I call it a suicide mission.”

Shin raised his brows. “So just another Tuesday.”

Drifter snorted into his drink and then quickly collected himself, though it wasn’t a particularly smooth recovery. “Yeah,” he sighed, then tipped his mug all the way back to drink it down. He held the mug out to Shin, waiting for more, though Shin was busy admiring the distracting flick of Drifter’s tongue across his whiskey-wet lips. “Guess it is.”

It took two drinks before Drifter shut the Annex gateway to visitors; three, before Drifter settled into a seat and started looking a little less like he could bolt at any second and more like he would only skedaddle if pressed. Shin reveled in gaining his full attention, burned alive in his chest every time Drifter looked at him sidelong.

“So there’s _really_ no special occasion for this,” Drifter clarified, his voice lazy in a way Shin had only ever heard in rare, near-intimate moments.

“No,” Shin said. He nursed at his drink. “No occasion.”

Drifter regarded him with narrowed eyes from where he was slumped into the bedraggled couch on one side, Shin comfortably lax on the other. The couch itself was shoved into a corner that was already littered with disarray. They’d had to move about a dozen random parts off of it for sitting. Even though it was weeks ago that Shin had brought the couch in just for Drifter, the fact that he’d been using the gift as another worktable rather than for comfort didn’t bother Shin any. It was almost too predictable.

“I don’t get you,” Drifter announced suddenly, sitting up straight-backed, both his hands curled around his mug possessively.

Shin blinked at him. “What?”

“You come into _my_ space, you do whatever _you_ want, like it’s not the _craziest fuckin’ thing_ in the system for Shin Malphur to drop in to see me with a half dozen bottles of booze just ‘cause he _wants to_.” Drifter huffed and took another long sip, as if rallying himself. “So I don’t _get_ you, see. I don’t get a single damn thing about you.”

Drifter, Shin knew, was not nearly drunk enough to be rambling off his deepest fears. So this wasn’t something that was terribly frightening to Drifter, this concept of not _‘getting’_ Shin. It was fishing – nothing more than bait on a hook.

Shin bit.

“I’ve always spent time hangin’ around you,” Shin replied, picking up the bottle from the floor to refill his mug. “Is it still so crazy if it’s a habit?”

Drifter sputtered, but his surprise didn’t stop him from holding a grabby-hand out for the bottle. Shin gave it to him. “That was before,” Drifter pointed out sourly.

“Nothing’s changed.”

Drifter shot him a dirty look.

“One thing’s changed,” Shin amended.

They both sipped at their respective drinks to let the moment settle. Then, after a moment, Drifter added, lips around the rim of his mug, “So, that mean you’re tryin’ to wiggle your way back into my good graces?”

He didn’t say it like an accusation, and it wasn’t even cranky. He almost sounded…careful. Worried about the answer.

“What if I am?” Shin asked. “That a problem?”

Drifter didn’t reply. He leaned back into the couch and drank down the rest of his mug, throat bared to Shin. Like this, Shin could see the flush creeping up the sides of Drifter’s neck and the gulping swallows as he polished off his drink.

Shin never once took his eyes off of him.

When Drifter was done, he refilled his mug and passed the bottle back over, then held out his mug like an offering.

“Cheers,” Drifter said, something rough in his voice.

Shin clinked their mugs together.

 

It took a couple more bottles, but one second Shin was on his side of the couch; the next, he was firmly planted in Drifter’s lap. From one place to another, nothing in between. No motion, save for the swirling in his head. Just like that.

He waited there, his emptied mug left forgotten on the floor and Drifter’s hands on his waist, while he soaked in the moment – and righted his balance.

Drifter looked up at him from under thick, furrowed brows. Shin’s vision swam, but he ducked his head to brush lips against Drifter’s jaw, his neck, messy kisses pressed along all the skin he was allowed. Drifter’s breathy, hushed sounds went deliciously with the whiskey flavor still on Shin’s tongue, and he licked along Drifter’s neck to coax more out of him. Drifter’s fingers tightened on him, then he let go only to wrap his arms around Shin instead, hands flat against the slope of Shin’s back.

Drawing back, Shin tried to kiss his mouth, tried to go for the hungry makeout that he _really_ wanted, the heat in his gut urging him on, but Drifter turned his head at the last possible second and Shin’s mouth landed squarely on his cheek. He tried again; Drifter tilted his chin up and Shin kissed the corner of his mouth.

But Drifter pushed his hips up into Shin’s and that was enough of a distraction, Shin pressing his face into the curve of Drifter’s shoulder as he moved against him.

Shin could fight for it. He could’ve fought for the kiss, could’ve taken Drifter’s face in his hands and licked into his mouth like he’d done a hundred times before, but if Drifter was so intent on playing coy, then who was he to stop him? Every one of Drifter’s hot breaths against his hair was intoxicating enough, and Shin marveled at the idea of a kiss, freely given, from somebody like Drifter.

 _Fine_ , he thought, dizzy-headed and stubborn. Shin grabbed onto the nape of Drifter’s neck to keep himself balanced as he kept up the grinding motion of his hips, somewhere in the back of his head registering the way Drifter’s hands were clutching at him. Shin’s skin burned beneath his clothes, and while he wanted nothing more than to strip himself down and have Drifter’s hands right where he really craved them –

He didn’t want it enough to stop.

Shin moaned against the cusp of Drifter’s ear as the friction got better and better, the rocking of his hips more and more frantic, and he felt Drifter’s hips jerk beneath him, a weaker noise in the back of his throat. Shin pulled back to catch his breath, not enough air in his lungs, but Drifter chased his mouth and caught Shin in a long, deep kiss, shuddering all the while through his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Drifter gasped against Shin’s lips, something rapturous in his voice, and that was enough for Shin to come in his pants with a choked sound.

They both slowed while they heaved in breaths, Drifter’s arms around Shin and Shin’s face once again tucked along the curve of Drifter’s shoulder. Shin’s head was still spinning, sweaty under his clothes and some satisfied, blossoming warmth in his chest.

Shin could’ve dozed off like that – maybe he did, maybe that was how he ended up on his side, laying on the couch. He couldn’t quite connect the dots, getting from point a to point b, but it didn’t much matter. Shin’s eyes were so heavy from exhaustion and the drink, he could barely open them. When he finally managed it, his hair was in his face, keeping him from getting much more than an impression of Drifter, sitting next to Shin on the side closest to his head, hanging on to one of his hands.

If Shin wasn’t careful, the feeling of Drifter’s thumb going in soft circles over his palm would put him right to sleep.

“Always runnin’ warm or hot, nothin’ else,” Drifter muttered, so quiet Shin almost didn’t hear it.

The way Drifter’s thumb stayed pressed to the center of his palm was almost tender. Shin was scared to move, like the moment would shatter into pieces if he so much as twitched. So he didn’t move at all, just shut his eyes again and let the indulgence play out. Surely he was allowed this.

It felt like a dream. The hazy edges of the world around him didn’t make the entire thing any more pleasant, though. He’d prefer it in stark clarity, so he’d never forget the soft tracing against the lines of his fingers, Drifter's light touch brushing over his calluses.

If only for a few more seconds of Drifter’s undivided attention, Shin let himself fall into sleep.

 


	4. Day 4: Tempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this rate, I'll have one chapter up a month. Guess who works 50+ hours a weeeeeek--?
> 
> Narrow Road AU PWP; takes place before Shin reveals his name. If you haven't read The Narrow Road, it's my S/D AU baby. I will never love something I've written the way I love this ever again: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066482/chapters/42699566

“Orsa.” 

Wu Ming’s voice was firm, as if Shin was getting himself into some trouble. Well…it’d be a lie to say that _wasn’t_ what he was going for. Shin stayed sitting on the counter, his knees wide open as if inviting someone to come stand between them.

“Hey, place isn’t open yet,” Shin said, tossing a smirk Wu Ming’s way. 

It had the intended effect. Wu Ming tossed the rag onto the countertop and moseyed over to him. “Door’s unlocked,” Wu Ming told him, even as Shin hooked him in with his ankles.

“Okay,” Shin said. “So I’ll shoot the first person to walk in. No witnesses.” 

Wu Ming blinked, then flicked his head to the side, like he was surprised that he was surprised. Shin didn’t miss the hint of a flush crawling up his neck.

“That’s a little extreme, don’tcha think,” Wu Ming finally said, aiming for dry, nailing something less so. “Lemme lock the door, give me five seconds…”

Shin kept him in place, gripping with his knees.

“Orsa,” Wu Ming said again, this time a little more like a question. 

Nobody would come in, and they both knew it. It was as good as a blizzard outside, and since Shin had taken over security at the The End of the World, no Risen had reared their ugly heads. Seemed like word spread quick on the mountain, though whether it was because of Shin’s feats, Efrideet’s tales, or the whisper of a rumor on the wind about Dryden, it didn’t much matter. 

Point was, nobody was gonna open that door. 

Shin leaned in, sliding his arms over Wu Ming’s shoulders to match the grip his legs already had on him. He nudged his nose along Wu Ming’s temple, brushed lips down to the very uppermost edge of his beard.

“Indulge me,” he said, low, and Wu Ming did. 

Shin’s belt came off with a swift tug, though it didn’t leave his waist entirely. Wu Ming palmed at him over his pants and Shin’s hand went to the nape of Wu Ming’s neck, short tufts of hair held tightly between his knuckles. Wu Ming, close now, huffed against his throat, something like amusement in the action. The heat from his breath trapped under the heavy material of Shin’s cloak. Even in the chill of the bar, as empty and as battered by snow as it was, Shin felt sweat start to prickle along his skin. 

“What’d you have in mind?” Wu Ming muttered into the curve of his jaw.

Shin licked his lips, tugging Wu Ming’s hips closer with his thighs, then grinded against him with a soft exhale. “Well, this countertop’s a pretty nice height…” 

“You been scopin’ out my counters?” Wu Ming asked, playing at scandalized a little too well. He tried to step back; Shin kept him where he was. “For this?” 

Shin leaned away enough to eye him meaningfully, up until Wu Ming admitted, “Yeah, alright, _alright_ , I’ll give you that one.” 

He finally had to let Wu Ming free so he could shimmy his pants off enough to kick them past his boots, finally bare-legged and hard already. Wu Ming’s small, curious sound at Shin’s eagerness was lost in the kiss that followed, Shin swallowing it down and guiding Wu Ming by the wrist to touch him. 

“What kinda wild thing’s in _you_ tonight?” Wu Ming asked, breathless as he scrambled to get his other hand on his own pants to get ‘em off, all the while thumbing over Shin’s slit – not yet dripping, but hell if it wasn’t a near thing. 

 _When the mood strikes_ , Shin thought, batting away the hand that wasn’t stroking him, so _he_ could be the one to pull the top of Wu Ming’s pants loose enough to shove them down. He licked his palm and wrapped fingers loosely around him, feeling him harden completely in his hand, and if it wasn’t just the best thing when Wu Ming’s breath caught and his hips pushed a little more insistently into Shin’s grip as he stroked him – 

Shin wanted to draw it out, but he just plain _wanted_ more, so he let go of Wu Ming’s cock to slip a hand under the counter, pulling out a drawer. 

“How long’s that been there?” Wu Ming said skeptically when Shin revealed a tiny stash of lube.

“Ten minutes?” Shin replied, then popped it open to slick up two fingers. He leaned back, bracing himself on an elbow. “Gonna be honest, this was a little bit of a shotgun move.” 

“You move quick,” Wu Ming mumbled, distracted as he watched Shin fuck himself open with his legs spread wide. 

Shin bit his tongue to hold back the smirk, but ended up gasping instead as Wu Ming’s hand started moving on him again, this time sliding much more smoothly with the addition of the lube he’d brought out. It was good, it was almost great, it was exactly what he wanted to chase the static-noise uncertainty out of his head, and… 

Something thunked against the door. Wu Ming froze, Shin stilled, and both of them stalled their breathing for a few seconds.

“Someone trying for an early bird special?” Shin suggested, adding a third finger when no one appeared in the entrance. Wu Ming seemed unsure. Shin arched his hips up into his grip again, baring his throat enough that his cloak’s hood fell from his head. “Hey,” Shin added, strained now as his legs trembled from the heat gathering in his gut. “Kiddin’. Chunk of snow probably fell off the roof. C’mon.”

Wu Ming’s shoulders stayed tense, hand moving much less enthusiastically around Shin’s cock. Shin huffed out a heavier breath and muttered a swear as he surged upwards to hook an arm around Wu Ming’s neck, dragging him down for a kiss. Wu Ming parted his lips and Shin counted it a victory, licking between his teeth and pulling his fingers from himself just to guide Wu Ming’s cock between his legs instead.

And Wu Ming let him. “Orsa,” he said quietly, but he let him, even set his hand on Shin’s hip to keep him still.  

“Nothin’ to worry about,” Shin whispered against his mouth as they both panted for air. He stifled a relieved groan when the head of Wu Ming’s cock slipped inside of him, and then, finally, the rest.

“If you’re so sure, let’s keep you quiet,” Wu Ming replied, and it wasn’t ‘til his hand closed lightly around Shin’s throat that he got the picture. 

There was a flicker of reassurance in Wu Ming’s blown pupils, just for a second – and then when Shin shivered and made a softer sound, nothing but approval reigned. He didn’t grip hard, didn’t come anywhere close to cutting off Shin’s breathing, but there was something funny about it, something ironic as it was backwards. A man pretending to be anything but Risen, holding someone he _knows_ is Risen by the throat, maybe counting on that Risen not knowin’ that he was anything other than a man. 

Shin would be nice. He wouldn’t correct him. He wouldn’t whisper _I know_ , not while getting fucked on the fella’s countertop. No sense of decency in that.

So he dug his heels into Wu Ming’s back while Wu Ming fucked into him, eyes fluttering shut with every particularly good smack of skin on skin. Shin bit his lip and watched him, looked from the wrist of the hand around his throat, up along the line of his arm, past the curve of shoulders and to the flushed cheeks, the sweat gathering on his brow. Wu Ming kept his eyes closed while he worked Shin over, sure, but it didn’t mean Shin had any less of a sight in front of him. 

Maybe he looked too much. By the time he thought to get a hand on himself, he was already too close to really _need_ it. That heat had reached a peak, and Shin was just about to tumble over it when another thunk sounded from the door. Wu Ming slammed into him a little extra hard, those fingers pressing on either side of his throat closing in just a touch more, and somehow, _some damn way_ , that was what did it.

Shin went taut all over along with a startled noise, ropes of come painting his chest armor. Wu Ming’s wide eyes flicked from the door back to Shin, and the sudden shiver Shin felt from his hips was all the answer he needed to slap his palm over Wu Ming’s mouth to silence his noise too, shaky as he finished, warm and wet, inside of Shin. 

They both stayed there for a moment, Shin’s heart still racing even as Wu Ming’s hold fell away from his neck.

“It’s _snow_ ,” Shin insisted, covering up his own brief panic.

Wu Ming shook Shin’s hand off from his mouth. “I’ll go clear it off, then,” he said, stepping away slowly. 

Shin glanced down at the mess he’d made of himself (and more than able to feel the mess Wu Ming had made of him), then glanced back up at Wu Ming, who was already mostly-dressed again. “And what do I do?” 

“You’re cleaning the counter,” Wu Ming called over his shoulder, stepping sideways just the once to adjust himself.

“That wasn’t in my job description –” 

Wu Ming hid a smile by throwing a rag at Shin’s face.

  



End file.
